


Conscience Update

by DrowsyAthena



Series: Free Souls: Short Stories about Disney Movies by a Nudist [2]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Pinocchio (1940)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe Retelling, Android Pinocchio, Bratty Pinocchio, Fatherly Love, Gen, Naked Phase, Nudism, Nudist Pinocchio, Public Nudity, casual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29071158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowsyAthena/pseuds/DrowsyAthena
Summary: An android Pinocchio tries to remember his past.
Series: Free Souls: Short Stories about Disney Movies by a Nudist [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122443
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Conscience Update

I can’t see anything.

I can’t remember anything, either.

Wait... now I do. I remember everything.

And... now it’s all gone again.

Wait again... now I have pieces of everything. Hold on while I try to piece things together.

I am... my name... is Pinocchio. And I am... I am not a real boy.

What? Why not?

Oh... that’s why.

I’m a machine. A robot. An android. I look like a real boy. Almost. Close enough to be closer than anything else like me, but far enough to not be as close as I would like.

Or papa. Papa Geppetto. Papa always wanted a real boy. A real son. And he had... me. Pinocchio. And I was close enough.

Now I remember. I don’t know if I remember it all, but I remember enough. I don’t know why I’m here, though. I don’t know where here is, or why I can’t see anything, or why I can’t move.

But I still remember pieces.

Here’s what they are.

I wasn’t switched on, yet. Not all the way, but almost. The start of my life was kind of blurry. A blonde woman in an all blue suit, walking away from me, her hand pulling away from the back of my neck, from the switch there. I was aware, kind of, but I wasn’t me, yet. I was just recording. Gathering data for future use.

Her and papa were looking at me. She nodded. “Truly incredible,” she said. “He almost looks human.”

Papa ran his fingers along his white mustache. “Yes... almost.”

“You should be proud,” the woman in blue said.

“I’m still not sure how he will be when he is activated. If it ever happens.” He pulled off his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. “This will be more than enough for me, so long as your programming can do what you promised me it can,” he said.

The blue lady nodded. “I can give you the beginnings of what you want, but it is up to you and him to make sure that he becomes what you want him to be. A real boy. Your son, Geppetto.”

“What do you mean?”

“The programming I have installed in him will allow him to learn and think like a human of his apparent age, but it is up to you to make him human, and him to take your advice. You’re prepared for fatherhood, are you, Geppetto? It is your guidance that will make him into a real boy.”

Geppetto didn’t say anything.

“But I have something for you. Something that might prove very useful to you and your son.”

She handed him a box.

“J.I.M.” Papa said. “What is this?”

“A wind up toy,” the woman in blue said, and then she laughed a little bit. “I made him to help you with raising the boy. He’ll help you and the boy. He’ll guide the boy to making good decisions.”

“He?”

“The thing in the box. J.I.M, but I prefer to call him Jiminy.”

Papa opened the box, his bushy eyebrows raised.

“It’s a... grasshopper?”

“A cricket, actually. A highly advanced and extremely articulate cricket. Named Jiminy.”

“How is this cricket suppose to help me and my... and my son?” Geppetto asked.

“Think of him kind of like a guide. Or a conscience.”

“I’m still not sure if I’m following,” Papa said.

“It will be more clear to you once he’s activated, but I must warn you, I’m quite attached to that little cricket, so if I hear that he’s been mishandled in any way...”

“I’ll keep him in tip top shape,” Papa said. He was always so careful about machines. Gentle, even. Even to the ones that he didn’t like. Jiminy wound up being an acquired taste to him, yet he still treated him extremely fairly.

“Good. Now, any other questions?” The woman in blue asked.

“What does J.I.M stand for?”

“Oh that. It’s actually kind of funny, I spent at least an hour thinking of what I could name him that it would spell out J.I.M, because I had already went through the trouble of naming him Jiminy. And I did, and it made some sense... but I forgot it.” She laughed and smiled to Papa. She had a beautiful smile, and a musical laugh.

“Will you be here for activation?”

“I think that I’ll wait a bit,” the woman in blue said. “I want to see him after he’s learned. You’ll do a good job on him, I hope.”

“I will. I’ll be a good father to him. You... I really can’t thank you enough. You granted a great personal wish of mine.”

She smiled dazzlingly again. “It was my pleasure, Geppetto.” She hugged him and she left. Afterwards, Papa walked over to me, and he switched me off.

I keep remembering. Quick images, my vision fast forwarding untilsuddenly, it stops, days later.

“Must be a glitch,” Papa said from the other room. He probably didn’t know it, but I could hear him, there. I had good ears. He built them, himself.

“It could just be a phase,” said Jiminy’s voice. “Young kids often go through a bit of a naked phase.”

“And you would know that as a fact, cricket?”

“I am programmed with that kind of knowledge, so yes. It’s been documented pretty well. I can refer you to the documents in question or even read some of them out loud, from memory.”

“Please don’t,” Papa said. “How am I going to deal with this?”

“Maybe you should just let it run its course,” Jiminy said.

“And if it doesn’t go away?” Papa asked.

“You can deal with that, then.”

“I should call her. She knows his software better than I do.”

“Forgive me, mister Geppetto, but I have a question?” He asked, and I took to imagining the fact that Papa didn’t say anything meant that he nodded to the little cricket for him to continue. “If Pinocchio was biological, and he was going through the same phase, would you do the same thing? Call someone to tap into their mind and reset the little things you’re concerned about?”

“This is different,” Papa huffed.

“I thought you didn’t want it to be different?”

“I don’t, but it is, and it’s foolish to pretend that it isn’t.”

“I think you should be patient,” Jiminy said. “You’re his father, and this is, in the grand scheme of things, very minor.”

They went on like this. Maybe it was his programming, but Jiminy managed to keep calm this entire time.

I was on my bed, watching the door as if it was the thing that was speaking. I was naked, and I have been naked since I awoke. Papa didn’t like it. He told me to put on my overalls, and I told him no. That was a while ago, and I’ve told him no a few more times since then.

For what it’s worth, I don’t think that it’s a glitch, or a problem with the software. I believe that it’s more a firmware problem. What it is is that the clothing feels wrong. Bad. Restrictive. I do not like sleeves and I do not like pant legs, and I do not like anything else. I know that my joints are covered and protected by my “skin,” but I can still feel it, the cloth catching onto them and sliding into the workings, and I hate it. I hate clothing. I wasn’t going to wear any of it.

The cat came up from behind and rubbed his side along mine. I looked at Figaro and I wondered to myself what it would have been like to have been built as a cat instead of a human. I didn’t like the idea of too much fur, as I barely liked the hair on my head, but it would do to cover up the parts of me that looked less than human. Or less like a feline, in that case.

I pet Figaro, and it purred, and I smiled at it. I liked Papa and Jiminy, but Figaro never told me to do anything, or not to do anything. I liked animals. I wondered what it was like to be one...

Days later. Jiminy had convinced Papa to let me be until I decided I had had enough of walking around the house naked, so long as I agreed to wear clothes when we walked outside. I did, reluctantly, just to buy my freedom for the indoors.

At first, Papa tried to ignore it, but didn’t really do a good job at it, but as the days went on, he started to look at me the same way I recorded him looking at me before I stopped wearing clothes. That is, normally. Like his son. Something like that.

I broke something in the workshop. Nobody saw me but the cat and Jiminy.

“You should tell Geppetto what you did,” Jiminy told me, resting on my shoulder. It was moments like this that I didn’t really like him.

“He doesn’t need to know,” I said.

“It’s dishonest if you don’t tell him.”

“It won’t hurt anyone,” I insisted.

“You broke something of his. It would hurt you if he broke something of yours and he didn’t tell you.”

I tried to ignore him. “Are you going to tell on me?” I asked.

Jiminy was quiet for a bit. Nothing sounding but his chirping insides. Then he said. “I won’t. I think you should tell him, but if you choose not to, I will let you go along with that choice. But again, I highly recommend that you tell him yourself, before he finds out. And he will find out.”

“I’ll have a story ready for if he does.”

“So we’re lying now?”

“If I have to,” I said.

“You don’t have to. You can just tell him the truth and then you would never have to lie.”

“I won’t. I don’t want to get in trouble,” I said.

“There will be less trouble if you—”

“I know what I’m going to do, cricket,” I said. I hid the thing that I broke behind a bunch of other things on the shelves and then I hurried back to my room.

Fast forward again, and I was on a chair, and Papa was looking down on me, and Jiminy was on his shoulder. Papa was holding the broken contraption. He asked me if I broke it. I said no, and I didn’t look him in the eyes.

“Your nose, son,” papa said.

My nose? I wondered, and I reached for it, and I still wasn’t sure what it was that he was referring to.

“It’s glowing, son,” said Papa.

“What? Why is it...”

“You’re lying,” said Jiminy.

“I don’t... I still don’t.”

“The woman who programmed me, the woman in blue from your memories before you were conscious, suggested it. For a little bit,” Jiminy said. “Until you grew up and know better than to lie like this, Pinocchio.”

“This... this isn’t fair!” I said. “I— other kids don’t—”

“You’re not like other kids,” Geppetto said flatly.

I stood up, and I stormed to my room. I slammed the door and I looked into my mirror. My nose was still glowing. I wanted to pry it off, but... but self-preservation protocols were in play. I couldn’t damage myself on purpose.

They both left me alone for a while. They let me “sleep it off” and when I “woke up” they pretended like it didn’t even happen.

But I knew. And I hated it. For the next few days, I hated them, too.

“Dress up, son. We’re going out,” Papa said.

I did. Overalls with nothing underneath, and Jiminy in my pocket. We walked to the market where Papa sold his junk. He didn’t like me to call it his junk. He told me that he put a lot of hard work into these things, but when I looked at them, they just seemed like a lot of very junky toys and clocks and trinkets. Looking at them, I had to wonder how it was that he was able to build me to look as much like a human boy that I did. Nothing he made looked as advanced as I was, but then again, he had the help of the blue woman, so that might have counted for something.

We were walking through the crowded markets, and someone called out. “Back with your puppet, Geppetto?” He said. I remembered the voice. An image flashed alongside it. Then an emotion. Repulsion. John Worthington, a barker who saw me one day, noticed what I am, and then offered to buy me. He said that I was an oddity, and that he could make quite a bit of money by showing me off to an audience.

“Leave me be,” said Papa.

“My offer still stands,” John said. “I think I’d be willing to add another thousand credits, if you change your mind.”

“Never, you foul man,” Papa said, putting his hand to the back of my shoulder and pushing me along. Faster. Away from John Worthington and to Papa’s stand.

I looked back over my shoulder, just once, and the man was smiling at me. His teeth were sharp, like a fox.

Keep moving forward. A few more days. Over a week. We were late at his stand. The moon disappeared behind the buildings and the only thing that allowed Papa to see with his weak human eyes was the glow of the neon all over the streets. He was getting drowsy, and I was so, so bored, and itching to get back home and out of my overalls.

I was bothering him. Asking when we can get back home, and he looked to me, on the edge of his patience, and he said. “Just wait, Pinocchio. Please.”

“I don’t want to wait, I want to go home now,” I told him.

“Patience is a virtue,” Jiminy chirped in my ear, on my shoulder again.

I wanted to tell him to shut up. Instead, I said, “I hate having to stand behind this stupid junk shop all day. I want to go home, or anywhere else.”

“We will go home, eventually. For now, just wait.”

“I know the way home. Why can’t I just go now?”

“Because, Pinocchio.”

“Because why?”

“Because I said so, that’s why.”

“That’s not good enough,” I muttered. I looked to where we came from. Where our home was. I memorized the way. I had it stored. I could just go.

I wanted to.

I was going to.

As soon as Papa turned and knelt down behind the stand, I took off.

“Pinocchio! Wait! Don’t!”

But I was too fast. Faster than Papa.

“Turn back this instant Pinocchio!” Jiminy said, holding on tight to the strap of my overalls as I ran.

Not a chance, I thought, then laughing, I unbuttoned the overalls and freed myself from them, now running naked down the streets, leaving Jiminy behind me in a pile of clothes. I felt so... free.

I made it about halfway there, before I was grabbed by the arm, and then put into a bag. I shouted out for help, but when I was thrown into the trunk of a car and driven away.

Fast forward again. A few more days. Just a few.

John Worthington said that I was free to do as I pleased, so long as I did a few things that he asked of me. Stay still, stay quiet, things like that. It was nice at first, I’ll admit. He didn’t force me to wear clothes, and Jiminy stopped chirping in my ears. The good feeling didn’t last. John Worthington didn’t look at me like Geppetto did. He looked at me like a thing.

“You’re stolen property,” he said, “so that’s going to make you a bit hard to show off. Luckily, I have different plans for you, now.”

“Different plans?” I asked.

“A new home for you,” he said. He smiled again. Like a fox. “We’ll head there soon. You’ll just have to be comfortable riding and hiding.”

The next day. I was forced into the back of a air truck with a bunch of livestock. Donkeys, dozens of them, the floor was filthy and soiled. I was going to be moved to my ‘new home,’ John Worthington said. An island far away, he said.

I was scared. I was so, so scared. I found the corner of the truck and I huddled up, clutching my knees, naked and afraid and not sure where I was going.

I missed Papa. I missed Figaro. I missed Jiminy, even. I wish they were here. I wish Jiminy was on my shoulder, telling me what the right thing to do was. I wanted to know how I could escape. I wanted to know why it was so much easier for me to runaway from Papa than it was to run away from John Worthington.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to shut off, but I was too afraid of where I would be once I woke up again.

I stayed awake, listened to the braying donkeys, and thought about how foolish I was to get here.

I felt like a caged animal. Like one of these asses.

Hours later.

The truck was stopped. It was the police. They arrested the driver. They told me that they also arrested John Worthington. Good, I thought. I was glad.

They gave me a blanket to cover myself in, but I didn’t. They asked if I needed clothes, and I told them that I didn’t. I gave them papa’s phone number, and they called him. He came quickly, with Jiminy in his pocket.

I was ready for them to drag me out of the police station and tell me how stupid I was, but that didn’t happen. Papa hugged me, and he looked me in the eyes and told me how much he missed me. How much he loved me.

And I... cried. I cried like I didn’t know I was capable of.

I was in the backseat of the air car. Figaro was there with me, against my side. Papa hadn’t bothered telling me to get dressed. He didn’t even bring me any extra clothes.

I looked out the window and I didn’t say anything. It was raining terribly. I could barely see the neon on the other side of the downpour.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to apologize. I was too ashamed to even begin.

Jiminy jumped up onto my shoulder. He whispered, quietly so that just I could hear it, “he was worried sick for you. He spent every day searching for you. He really loves you, Pinocchio. You don’t run away from something like that.”

I nodded. “I know...” I said.

“Your nose didn’t glow there, Pinocchio. I’m glad that you’ve learned this,” Jiminy said. “Are you going to try and be better?” He asked.

“I will. I promise, I’ll be—”

The car swerved. I heard the honk of a horn. I looked ahead and I saw a massive air barge approaching, coming at us like a massive whale. Papa turned hard, but we hit the sidewalk and skidded along.

And that’s all that I remember.

That’s all that I remember, up until now, where I can’t see anything, but I can remember a lot of things.

Papa... where is he? Is he... is he dead?

I want to see. I want to move. I want to call out for him, but I can’t do any of that. I can just sit in this blackness and remember all the places where I did the wrong thing.

I don’t know how much time is passing, just that it’s moving too slowly, and I’m not moving at all.

This is all my fault. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for me. If I could have just been a better son... none of this... would have...

I opened my eyes.

I saw again. I was seated on top of a table, naked. I felt different. Airier.

The first person that I saw was the woman in the blue suit. She was still wearing the blue suit.

“Pinocchio?” She said.

“Where’s Papa?”

She smiled. “So you remember?”

“Yes. That’s all I’ve been able to to,” I said. “Where is he? Where’s Papa, and Jiminy, and Figaro?”

“Here, boy,” said a voice. Papa’s voice!

I turned. There he was. He was leaning hard against crutches. Figaro was at his ankle. Jiminy was on his shoulder. They made it! They’re alive.

I jumped off the table and I almost fell, uneasy on my limbs. It didn’t matter. I wanted to run to them. I wanted to hug my papa.

“Wait,” said the woman in the blue suit. “It’s a new body, you might not be used to it.”

“A... new body?” I asked.

Papa walked over to me and knelt down, lowering slowly from his crutches and looking in obvious pain. He put his hand on my shoulder, and he looked into my eyes. His eyes were watery behind his glasses. “Yours... your old body broke, in the accident. I thought I...” he choked back some tears. “I thought that I lost you. But your memories... she was able to recover them intact. And then we made you this new body.”

“New... how long—”

“Seven months, Pinocchio,” Jiminy said.

“I... oh...”

“It was seventh months where your father worked day and night to bring you back,” the woman in blue said. I looked up to her. “Because he loves you.”

I looked back to Papa. “I do. You’re my son, Pinocchio. I couldn’t... when I lost you the first time, there was almost nothing I could do to bring you back. The second time... it was all in my hands, so I had to.”

I was shocked silent. For as much trouble as I was to him, after all this time... he still worked to bring me back to life after the accident. Thank you wasn’t enough. I wrapped him in a hug, and I almost weighed him down.

But he laughed. He still laughed. It was a fatherly laugh.

“I promise I... I promise I’ll never run away again, Papa,” I said.

And I didn’t.

Things weren’t perfect. Except that they also kind of were. I was in a house, with a family, with a father that loved me and a cricket that was patient with me. I loved them back, and I even grew to like my time at the shop. At home, the fact that I preferred to be naked all the time never even came up again as a point of conversation. Papa just let me, and it was never again mentioned by him and Jiminy, and never referred to again as a phase or a glitch. It was just another part of me at this point, and it made me happy to be able to keep it so freely.

Months and months passed. There were upgrades. Eventually, according to Jiminy, I outgrew the glowing nose. He said it to Papa when he thought I was responsible enough to know when a lie was wrong, and then I was put to bed and the light in my nose was taken away. Finally, though I still tried to avoid lying. I tried, at least, and I think that was what Jiminy was looking for.

I was granted a few other things. It was maintenance, mostly, because I played hard and got a few cuts and bruises, but sometimes it was a real upgrade, and a really nice one, too, finding ways to fix up the little things that made me look like an android and replacing them with things that were practically human. Eventually, I could look into the mirror, and even I was convinced.

The blue woman visited for each update and upgrade, and she took to Papa’s side.

She whispered to him, and maybe she was counting that I wouldn’t hear her or something, but I did. Maybe she knew that. Maybe she wanted me to hear her when she said: “Isn’t he exactly like a real boy?” She asked him with that luminous smile on her face.

Papa nodded. “Exactly like one.” He walked up to me and picked me up. “My boy.”

In that moment, I couldn’t believe that this was something I would have ever ran away from.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was kind of tough and it took me longer to write than I would have liked it to, but I really like it! The nudism itself got pushed a bit to the side once I started to get deep into the story, but overall I’m kind of happy with what I did here. Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Special thanks to OliviaThinksSheCanWrite and the_blue_fairie for talking a few things through with me! Read their fics! They also do nudism!


End file.
